The Godfather
by goldenqueenofthecove
Summary: As a man with nothing left, not even family, Harry finds himself a chance to start over in an entirely new world. Unfortunately, like most things that happen to him, nothing goes exactly as planned. In no time at all, Harry finds himself the Godfather of a god who is more arrogant than any Gryffindor and a mischievous one more cunning than any Slytherin. But he loves them anyway.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes, this is a new story. I saw the Avengers and read practically every fiction in the HP/Avengers crossover fandom before admitting that I wanted to write my own.**

**I got this idea while reading **_Wanderer_** by **_cywsaphyre_**. If for some strange reason you haven't read the story yet, you totally should. I asked them if I could use the idea of Harry being Godfather to Thor and Loki and they were nice enough to say yes!**

**Also, yes I know, another Master of Death story, very unoriginal, but I need it to be this way for the story to work.**

**Disclaimer: The day Loki stops being mischievous is the day I own Harry Potter and the Avengers, which is to say…never.**

_A man dies ... only a few circles in the water prove that he was ever there. And even they quickly disappear. And when they're gone, he's forgotten, without a trace, as if he'd never even existed. And that's all. _

_**- Wolfgang Borchert**_

**C **H **A **P **T **E** R **1

The ocean crashed noisily against the cliff side, creating large sprays of foam that shot up into the air and rained back down as droplets of water in the breeze. Seagulls flew in circles overhead, cawing their high-pitched, awful wails that were carried away with the wind. The sky itself was overcast, the sun completely buried behind layers of thick, cotton-grey clouds, which left the scene below dredged in dim light and eerie shadows.

On the edge of the cliff stood a single man. He was particularly petite for his size, ranging at about five foot seven with almost shoulder length shaggy hair that was such a dark ebony in color that it almost seemed to absorb all light that surrounded it. His skin was naturally pale from the lack of sun and cheery weather, a complete contrast to the darkness of his wind-blown, perpetually messy hair. The man had high cheekbones, a sign of his aristocracy and nobility, which matched well with his smoothed, almost ethereal, features.

His eyes though, were the most unnatural and alluring things about his figure. They were as green as the first leaves of spring, their vibrancy obvious to anyone who managed to look at them. To many it would seem like the endless emerald depths represented life, new life to nature, an awakening from a dead winter slumber, but it was only to the wizard-folk that it represented death, for its color matched perfectly with their most deadly curse.

The man's clothes were loose and unrestricting, flapping chaotically around his slim, yet lithely muscled form as he stood, head tilted, gazing at the sky. Overall his image might be considered one of beauty, an idealistic version of perfection. If one were to look deeper though they would see the light lines of scars that marred his skin and stole away its perfection. The two most prominent being the words the spelled out 'I must not tell lies' on the back of his left hand and the lightning bolt shaped one on his forehead.

The man was a warrior. Though his appearance and relatively small size was deceiving, just one glance into his glazed-over, piercing green eyes would reveal the age and experience that could only be gained by struggling through hardships and war.

Slowly the man's lips parted and a dulcet tenor voice with a distinctly British accent called out to the silently approaching figure behind him. "Why are you here, Andromeda?"

The figure, now recognized as Andromeda stopped in her tracks, only mere feet behind him. The seagulls cawed overhead and the sharp sounds of the waves breaking permeated the air for several seconds before she could answer. "I- I can't do it. I can't take care of him, Harry."

Wet tears began to slowly drip down the light wrinkles of the woman's gray-toned face. Andromeda clutched a clothed bundle up to her chest protectively. "He h-has Lupin's eyes and his hair changes c-colors with his emotions just like N-Nymphadora's used to when she was this s-small." Andromeda paused lightly to allow herself to breathe deeply a few times. "P-plus, his name is Teddy. I just lost Ted and every time I look at him or call his name I'm reminded that they're all dead! My husband and my daughter and my daughter's husband, they're all gone! I'll never see their smiles or hear their voices ever again and every time I look at him – I just can't do it Harry."

By the time her slightly hysterical rant had come to an end the dark-haired, green-eyed, light-skinned figure identified as Harry had turned towards her and placed a placating hand on her slim shoulder.

Slowly Harry pulled her into a tight hug, careful to watch out for the swathed bundle that was Teddy Lupin in her arms. The next several minutes were spent coddling a sobbing Andromeda while she tried to regain her composure.

Quickly she peeled her face away from Harry's shoulder and tried to wipe away the remnants of tears with her upper arm, her hands still too full of precious cargo to use. "You're his Godfather and I just thought that… you were the first person who came to mind. Can you take him?"

Andromeda couldn't look directly at Harry's face. She was too ashamed to.

"Yes, Dromeda, I'll take him in." Harry took hold of the sleeping Teddy and secured him in his arms, "Don't worry, you can visit him any time, I'm quite sure he'll be glad to see you."

Andromeda could only manage a watery smile and a quick thank you before apparating away and leaving Harry and Teddy alone by the water.

Harry looked down at the sleeping bundle in his arms and smiled, "So, Teddy," he whispered, head lowering to hover just above the infant's own, "do you want to live with me?"

Teddy made a tiny snoring sound that Harry decided to take as a yes. Quickly, as rain began drizzling down, He turned and marched into the large manor that loomed ominously in the background.

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

**11 years later**

"Why does everyone hate me?"

Harry nearly choked on his bite of Yorkshire pudding. After several seconds of rapidly pounding on his chest Harry finally managed to gag down his food. "What? Why would anyone hate you, Teddy?"

"It's just some kids at school," he murmured, not looking Harry in the eyes, "They all avoid me."

A small frown tugged at Harry's lips, an idea about where this conversation was headed fluttering to the forefront of his mind, "Maybe they're all just shy."

Teddy's head snapped up and he glared at him, his hair turning a vibrant orange color – not unlike that of a fire – before receding to a mellow sea green color. "No they're not! They've got loads of friends and they're always laughing and joking around, but once they see me it all stops. They glare and they talk about me behind my back when they think I can't hear them and I don't know why."

Harry just sighed and began massaging his head with his fingertips. "Don't think much about it, Teddy. It's just child prejudice. If you be the better man and be nice they'll be sure to like you eventually."

A frown crossed the little metamorphmagus' face and his nose scrunched up slightly in confusion, "Why would they be prejudishmis against me?"

"Prejudice, Teddy. I can't really tell you why people are prejudice. They just are." A contemplating look flashed over his face. "Say, Teddy, have I ever told you about the Marauders?" Harry waited for him to shake his head before continuing, "They were a group of some of the biggest troublemakers in Hogwarts. There were four of them all together – all Gryffindor – and they pranked everybody. They went under codenames – your father was one of them."

Teddy's amber eyes widened considerably, "He was? What was his codename?" the excitement in his voice was hard to miss and caused Harry to chuckle under his breath.

"His name was Moony."

Once again Teddy's nose scrunched up in confusion. "That doesn't sound very impressive. Why was he called that?"

"Because he was a werewolf." This time it was Teddy's turn to gag on his food.

"HE WAS A WEREWOLF!" at Harry's scolding look Teddy began to settle back in his chair and use a more indoor appropriate voice. "Does this mean I'm a werewolf? I don't transform on the full moon or anything." Teddy began to avidly study his arms for any signs of sprouting hair that he might have missed.

"No, you're not a werewolf. You just have the gene." Harry answered before smirking, "It's also why your eyes are so pretty – like spun gold."

Teddy's lightly tanned face flushed tomato red at the compliment, whether in anger, embarrassment, or a strange mix of both it was impossible to tell. Either way, the effect was instantaneous, and Harry burst out laughing, his fist pounding on the table at Teddy's scandalized look.

It only took a few minutes before Teddy started giggling along as well and the entire room was filled with the sound of raucous laughter.

When they'd both settled back down and a more serious atmosphere befell them Teddy asked his last question, "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

It was purely innocent and asked with so much sadness that Harry's heart wrenched painfully in his chest. "It was a miscalculation on my part, Teddy. I'm sorry. I thought that people would start to pull their heads out of their own arses and it wouldn't matter if you knew or not. Unfortunately, that seems to be impossible here. In the wizarding world there's just too much pride, fear, and prejudice."

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

**6 years later**

A firm yet clipped knock sounded on the large wooden door of the manor. Harry marched towards it quickly with long strides. Upon arriving to the door, Harry quickly glanced through the small glass peephole before reaching out to open it.

"Hello, 'Mione" Harry started, "It's been a while."

Hermione Granger, top witch of her year, entered the manor as Harry stepped aside. Her brown bushy hair was very lightly streaked with gray and the first signs of wrinkles were beginning to show around the edges of her chocolate brown eyes.

Quickly she snapped around on her heel and glared at him, arms crossed. "It's been a while? That's all you can say? Harry, it's been seventeen years since I last saw you! It took me seventeen years to track you down!"

"So you work at the Ministry now? Must be great for you."

"Harry James Potter, you had better not change the subject on me young man!"

"'Mione, you're only like eight months older then me. Stop acting like you're my mother."

"Harry!" her shout created a pregnant silence that was broken the moment Harry shifted to lean his weight on his right leg.

"I don't know what to say to you 'Mione."

"Just…why would you not try to contact us? Ron and I have been so worried, and you've missed out on meeting our children, and…and so much more." Hermione's eyes were becoming moist the more she spoke. Quickly she sat down on a nearby red velvet chair so that she wouldn't accidently collapse.

Under normal circumstances she would have never been so emotional, but these were not normal circumstances. Without realizing it her hand moved to cover her flat stomach and her brown curls fell around her face.

Harry's eyes widened, "You're pregnant?"

Hermione just sniffled and smiled, "Yes, I found out a month ago. Ron was so happy. This one will make our sixth."

"Well…well you look great."

"And you haven't aged a bit. Is it because of the…" Hermione trailed off not wanting to speak about the deathly hallows. Harry understood and just nodded. Hermione began to tear up again. "Not at all? You're not even aging a little bit?" Harry shook his head in the negative. "I'm sorry about all the crying. It's just hormones."

"I understand…well, sort of." Hermione laughed at this.

"What have you been doing these past seventeen years?"

"Taking care of Teddy. It's his last year at Hogwarts and then he's leaving though."

Hermione looked shocked, "I thought he was with Andromeda!"

"No, she gave him to me and I made both of them promise not to tell anyone."

"Oh." Hermione was scanning his face critically, "You do know that he has a massive crush on Victoire, Bill and Fleur's daughter, right?"

Harry couldn't stop his laugh. "How could I not? He's pining away for her. I swear the moment she graduates he is going to propose."

The next several hours were filled with inane chatter as Harry and Hermione caught up with each other's lives over the past seventeen years. In the end she left after forcing Harry to allow them to visit him and have him send an owl every once in a while.

As he closed the large mahogany door behind her, he smiled.

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

**10 years later**

It was as Harry had said. Directly after Victoire's graduation Teddy proposed to her and she agreed instantly. The wedding was very small and quaint, filled with all of the Weaselys, Delacours, and Grangers. Andromeda and Harry had hid in the back until the proceedings were over. Teddy and Victoire said their vows and gave each other a loving kiss on the lips, and life went on.

Two years later they had had their first child. They named her Anne. Of course, Harry was then made her Godfather. It was a common joke between Teddy and Harry that his immortality would forever leave him to be Godfather for all of the future Lupins. Harry did not doubt for one second that that was absolutely true.

In fact, it was while Harry was watching over his two-year old Goddaughter that he realized – for the first time since Voldemort – just how true that was.

She had been running around the house stark naked with Harry chasing after her and trying to fit her into at least a pair of shorts. For some strange reason Anne was obsessed with remaining as nude as possible and would often strip off her clothes before heading off to play.

Harry was on his last straw. It was amusing, sure, she was only two and it wasn't like it was scandalous or wrong, but Harry wasn't a fan of picking up her clothes fifty times a day. He was just about ready to cast a sticking charm on them the next time he caught her.

As Harry rounded the corner, he saw a flash of tan vanish up the stairs. As quickly as possible Harry swung himself over the supposedly childproof gate and bolted up after her. It was as he was nearing the top step that – in a rare moment of un-gracefulness – his foot slipped and sent him crashing down.

The fall broke his neck and he died.

Quickly Harry sat up as he awoke in the train station where he had spoken with Dumbledore during the final battle for Hogwarts, King's Cross Station. There was no Dumbledore this time, though. He glanced around the empty white terrain, unsure of what to do. Was this the end?

Suddenly, the sound of a train whistle could be heard. Harry looked over his shoulder just in time to see the Hogwarts Express come to a stop behind him and open its doors. Guessing that it wanted him to enter, Harry clambered up the stairs and sat down in a compartment in the back. Slowly the doors closed, the whistle blew, and Harry joined reality once more.

He awoke to the sound of gut-wrenching sobbing coming from Anne who had no idea what had just happened. The naked two-year old was shaking his arm and trying to get him to move all the while "Pwomising to ne'er take off he' cwoves again."

Instincts taking over, Harry pulled her into a one-armed hug and said, "If you never take your clothes off how will you bathe?"

Anne just hiccupped and answered, "Wif my cwoves on." Harry ruffled her hair and let her lay across his lap until she'd calmed down and fallen to sleep.

Harry was dreading having to tell Teddy that he might have traumatized his daughter.

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

**Many generations later**

Time moved quickly. It wasn't long before Ron and Hermione died. They passed away peacefully together in their sleep at the age of one hundred and thirty-five. It was once rumored that only those who were true soul mates could die together like that. It was another twenty-three years later that Teddy died and twenty-five for Victoire. Harry attended all of their funerals hidden under his invisibility cloak.

It was as he and Teddy had joked, for every new Lupin added to the family, Harry was named Godfather. Only the Lupins and their spouses knew about him, the rest of society had failed at hunting him down and deemed him a recluse (and by now thought of him as dead). If only they knew. Harry Potter was history, quite literally. His heroics were taught about in various magic schools, but no one seemed to deem them very important anymore. They all had their own problems and a new Dark Lord had risen, complete with a brand-spanking new prophesy child. Harry's golden days were long over.

Currently, Harry was at St. Mungo's sitting in a hard white chair by a hospital bed. His only remaining Godchild (her parents having been in an unfortunate accident while training dragons in Romania) was lying next to him, holding his hand and panting softly.

Her grip on Harry's hand tightened as her body went through another contraction. She moaned softly and sweat began to bead under her brow. "Harry," she asked, "Are you mad at me?"

"Now why would I be mad at you, Love?" Harry asked, ignoring the throbbing pain from his hand as she squeezed it even harder.

She gave him an annoyed look, "B-because I'm p-pregnant."

"Lots of girls get pregnant."

"Yes, but I'm only fifteen!" It was true. It was during her time at Hogwarts that she had a small fling with some 'cute' seventh year boy and found out that she was pregnant. The boy, who was a pureblood, ditched her the moment he found out and offered to pay her for her silence. That, of course, was met with a punch to the face and a broken nose, but it still didn't stop the fact that there was a baby on the way.

Harry just smiled encouragingly, "And now you know to be more careful in the future!" He wrinkled his nose, a habit he had picked up from Teddy, "And to pick better boys. He's lucky I wasn't there!"

Victoria chuckled a little before another contraction ripped through her body. The medi-witch chose that moment to enter and wasted no time shooing Harry out of the room.

He stood outside the door for six and a half hours before several other nurses shoved him aside and rushed in. Suddenly afraid, Harry entered the room behind them and saw red, quite literally. Blood littered the white linen sheets all around Victoria whose skin was the pallor of ash and gleaming with perspiration.

Several minutes and dozens of spells later, the nurses stepped back with a look of sadness. The head medi-witch turned to Harry and glared, "Are you the father?" She demanded.

Harry almost fainted from shock. "N-no, I'm her Godfather. What's going on?" A more sympathetic look passed over the witch's face and she sighed.

"Her child was stillborn, it was a boy, and there was nothing we could do." The witch looked back over to Victoria, "Unfortunately she's too weak and something was ruptured when the baby was coming out. She's bleeding internally and she's not going to last much longer. We tried to replenish her blood supply and fix the rupture, but the area was too sensitive and ripped open again. We've done the best we can, but she's not going to make it."

For the first time in a long time Harry could feel tears entering his eyes. "How much longer?" he croaked.

"One or two minutes at the most. We numbed her so she can't feel the pain. We'll leave you alone to talk with her."

As all of the nurses exited the room Harry stumbled towards the bed and plopped down in the chair. Slowly Victoria's eyes opened, hazy from all of the spell casting. She tried to speak, but her voice wasn't responding well to her numbed body. She had always been stubborn though and forced herself to form words, "Boy or girl?"

Tears ran rivers down his pale cheeks and he snatched up both of her hands in his, "It was a boy, a beautiful baby boy."

She gave a weak laugh, "I'm…glad. Mother…used to say…that girls weren't fun to…raise."

"You know she was just joking with you, right. She didn't mean it."

"I-I know…but I…still wanted…a b-boy." Her head seemed to sink into the pillow and her eyes were fluttering shut. "Will…you take care…of him?"

Harry started as he realized she didn't know her son didn't make it. Harry was at a loss for words.

"Until I'm better…anyways." She looked directly at Harry's eyes then, pleading with him to say yes.

"S-sure. Of course, you know I will." Harry couldn't bear to tell her the truth in her last moments of life. He felt awful, like he was going to throw up.

"That's…good. I'm sleepy. I'm just…going…to take a…small nap, is that…okay?"

He clutched her cooling hands tighter, but she couldn't feel it. "Yes, take all the time you need, love."

"Thanks…Harry."

Her breathing became shallow, until Harry could no longer tell if she was alive by the rise and fall of her chest. Her mouth opened just a sliver, which was enough for her to say her parting words, "His…name is…Tobias" and with that her body drained of any remaining energy and she drifted off into a never-ending sleep.

Harry buried her and her son together in the Lupin section of the cemetery, next to her parents. For the first time in hundreds of years Harry was all by himself.

There were no more Godchildren. No one else knew who he was. He was truly alone.

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

No longer feeling like he had a reason to live, Harry began to act recklessly. He joined a new dragon riding program and nearly got killed by a Hungarian Horntail that could have only been a descendent of the one from his fourth year with the way it tried to roast him every chance it got. After that he joined an expedition to find remaining cockatrice (which were very endangered) and place them in a specialized reserve. For years and years Harry continued to join potentially lethal expeditions and learned all sorts new spells.

It was in the Amazon Rainforest that Harry learned he could still speak to snakes. Apparently it was a language that – once used – could never be forgotten, which was good. After all he had to use it on a small tribe of cannibalistic parselmouths.

It wasn't until forty years after the death of Victoria and her son that Harry finally calmed down. Even with all of his recklessness Harry had still somehow managed to not die a single time during any of his expeditions.

Instead he began focusing on the healing arts and took apprenticeship under a very unknown Wiccan who had mastered the art and was a prodigy to healers everywhere. She hated publicity though so the only ones who knew about her were Harry and the African tribe she lived in. She had beautiful mocha skin and very interesting turquoise eyes.

He worked under her stern, but fair, watchful gaze for ten plus years before, ironically enough, he touched a plant that just so happened to be covered in a toxin that sunk in through the skin. After all his years of trying to let himself die through dangerous stunts and reckless maneuvers Harry Potter found himself dying at the hands of a poisonous weed in a vegetable garden. Somewhere out there the fates were laughing at him.

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Once again the clean whiteness of King's Cross Station appeared before Harry. He looked around the platform with a bored expression, already used to the sight. There was one difference this time, though.

On one of the benches sat an old man with very black hair in a prim looking and well-kept black suit. Briefly Harry wondered if it was Italian. On the man's lap was a box of pizza from some pizzeria in New York.

To say Harry was confused would be an understatement. "Who are you?" he asked cautiously. He was pretty sure that he had never met this man before.

The man looked up with a small smile on his wrinkled face and answered, "I am Death."

"W-what?" That was new. He scanned over the form in front of him. Death looked perfectly normal just sitting on the bench and taking a bite of cheesy pizza.

"I am Death." He repeated patiently. "I felt like we should have a talk."

"You're not exactly what I imagined you'd be." And it was true. Most would picture him as a shadowed entity or a skeleton with a scythe.

"No, I guess I'm not am I? What do you know about the hallows?"

Harry paused at the abrupt question before answering, "They're what's keeping me alive, right? My ancestors got them from you. I earned them all and became the Master of Death and even though I threw away the resurrection stone, I still somehow have managed to not age."

Death offered Harry a slice of pizza, which he warily accepted. Slowly he took a cheese and olive filled bite. It was surprisingly good.

"You are mostly correct, young master." Death began, looking at him with his black eyes. "I offered them to your ancestors in my more rebellious days. They did what they wanted and in the end I claimed their souls, but never could I gather up all of the items again. Instead, now, they rest in your care. You will never age and you will never die."

"But what about the resurrection stone?"

"It lays powerless where you dropped it. The powers were absorbed by you when you took the title as my master."

"Oh." There wasn't much more someone could say in a situation like this. "Do you think that you could claim my soul?"

Here Death paused, "Ah, I'm sorry, but your soul no longer has a place in any of the potential afterlives. No place will accept your death and there is no such thing as oblivion. I cannot ferry your soul to where it's not wanted, that would be too much unnecessary paperwork, and in the end they would say no."

The Hogwarts Express blew its whistle and entered the station at top speed before slowing down to a screeching halt. The doors opened up and what sounded like a radio voice announced that all passengers should get on and that they would be leaving in five minutes.

"This is my stop, I guess." Harry said, standing up. "It was nice getting to talk with you." Just as he was about to take his first step towards the train, Death stopped him.

"Harry, you know you don't have to get on that train, right?"

Harry turned around with a surprised look on his face, "Then how will I get back to where I was?"

"Do you want to go back?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"There is a large myriad of worlds, planets, and dimensions to explore. No matter where you go death is inevitable. Every place that exists is ruled by the laws of death."

"So you mean I could go anywhere in the universe?" The doors to the Hogwarts Express closed and the train sped off out of the station. A thick plume of gray smoke left behind a trail in the air that was quickly disappearing.

"In a sense, yes. All you have to do is get on a different train. Each train takes you somewhere new. If you want to go back to where you just were then all you have to do is board the same train and you'll wake up in your last location before 'death'."

Harry wasn't quite sure why, but there was something comforting about talking to Death. Slowly he lowered himself back onto the bench and grabbed another slice of pizza. Looking down he noticed a brown briefcase sticking out from under the bench.

"Don't you have to be working right now?" He asked, "People must be dying all the time."

"No. I hardly involve myself with the dead anymore. I have several thousand reapers under my employment who deem whether the soul is ready to pass on or not before guiding them to where they need to be. I'm only needed for major catastrophes, like Noah's Ark, or whenever one of your petty wars breaks out. On one world I had to completely wipe out the entire planet, but occasions like that are rare."

A sharp high-pitched whistle that almost burst Harry's eardrums rang through the air as a light blue train with elegant silver edging entered the station and pulled to a smooth halt. The same announcer voice gave the same message as the Hogwarts Express and opened its doors to wait.

"Where does this one lead to?" Harry asked.

Death just smiled a little, Harry thought he probably didn't smile a lot though because it just looked downright terrifying. "You'll have to find out. I'm not going to help you." With that Death began to stand up and grabbed his briefcase after closing his box of pizza. "Just remember, you shouldn't judge a place so soon after entering." With those words and a foreboding chuckle, Death left Harry alone on the platform.

With under a minute left Harry decided to chance it and hopped onto the train, this time situating himself in a compartment in the front. The whistle blew and the train began to leave the station. Harry shivered; the train was extremely cold and uncomfortable. Just as the train was about to enter a bright white tunnel Harry blacked out.

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

When Harry woke up he was cold. His entire body was numbed to the core. Slowly he pushed himself up off the squishy ground with his arms, which he noted were extremely red.

Blearily he tried to blink everything into focus. He'd been lucky. When he'd worked under the Wiccan she had given him a mixture that improved eyesight to the point where he no longer needed glasses. It wasn't perfect vision, but it was good enough.

Harry kept blinking, trying to get rid of all of the white in his vision until he realized with a start that he was staring at snow.

Quickly he stood up and scanned his surroundings. There was nothing but large mountainous ranges of ice as far as the eye could see. Snow blanketed the ground, most of it frozen solid, and large shadowy figures could barely be seen lumbering in the background.

A light crunching sound was made in the snow behind him and quickly Harry spun around. His chest was suddenly filled with a searing pain as it was stabbed through with a giant blade of ice. He collapsed to his knees, warm crimson life dripping down from the wound and melting the snow. He gave a wet cough and a large gob of blood dribbled out past his pale lips.

The last thing he saw as he faded into death was a giant blue man looking down at him, bloodied ice dagger clutched expertly in his hands.

TBC

**A/N: So this is the longest chapter I've ever written of anything. This chapter was supposed to have the most angst out of all of them, so don't worry, it gets better from here. I'm really worried about what you guys think so don't be afraid to leave feedback!**

**The Death I used was the one from Supernatural (Which I don't own! {He's in my top 5 favorite Supernatural characters}). In one episode Death says: "**This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Dean. Very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you.**" **

**Which pretty much says that his domain is everywhere, so that's where I've taken it. ALSO don't get offended by the mentions of afterlives or alternate places when you die, I'm not picking a religion or anything here. In Supernatural there's Purgatory, Hell, and everyone gets their own Heaven if they were good. They also have all of the other gods and whatnot, so I'm just going to say they all exist in a way. I'm not trying to offend or claim to be right about anything.**

**Please tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The response to this story was just…oh my, words can't describe. AND it was only the prologue! It was actually quite intimidating. Sorry this was so late, second and third chapters are usually the hardest for me, but soon I shall get to the main plot and all will be well! **

**A few of you had some questions that I will answer right now. I apologize to all the slash fans out there, but this is not going to be a slash fic. I imagined a mentor/fatherly Harry when plotting this story. **

**As for Harry's unorthodox reaction to his old friends… I wanted to design his post-war psychology to fit my story needs and that was required. It will be explained a little in this chapter, and more over time.**

**One reviewer mentioned something that floored me. Wizards wouldn't be showing signs of aging at 30 something like I said Hermione did (even if it was only a little). I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the graying and small wrinkles were caused by a combination of academic stress and the war. I knew freshmen in high school that got gray hairs because of stress, so it's not completely unrealistic. **

**Occasionally there will be more Teddy and Harry flashbacks, but only when it parallels with something that's about to happen with the Odinson brothers. (Hint hint)**

**Disclaimer: I'll own Harry Potter and Avengers (and Thor) when pigs fly. Launch the catapults! Wait, what do you mean that's animal cruelty…no!**

_We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutual weirdness and call it love._

_- **Dr. Seuss**_

**C **H **A** P** T** E** R **2

Reawakening this time was more disorienting than ever before. The station was swirling around in a strange mix of white shades that made him nauseous and he had trouble telling whether he was standing upright or hanging upside down. All of this, he assumed, was caused by the suddenness of his death on the icy planet.

It took until about ten seconds after sitting up and awkwardly tilting back and forth where he sat that Harry felt he had enough control over his body to limp/amble over to the nearest bench and promptly collapse in an undignified heap.

With his cheek pressed up against the cool marble of the bench, Harry glanced around lazily, trying to regain his composure. His look around confirmed that he was indeed alone in the large station. Heaving a heavy sigh, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was. His other hand drifted off to his side to rest on the bench beside him, only to be impeded by something rectangular and made of cardboard.

Blinking slightly in surprise, Harry stared at the pizza box that Death had left on the bench. Idly he wondered if food could go bad in the station before quickly shaking the thought out of his head and snatching up the box. It weighed more than it would have if it were just an empty box, so Harry decided to open it.

Opening it, of course, revealed something he wasn't quite expecting. Neatly folded on the inside of the surprisingly clean and not-greasy box lay his invisibility cloak. Carefully, he reached in and pulled up a handful of the silken liquid-like fabric, if only just to make sure it was actually there.

Several things fell out of the cloak at that moment, one clattering noisily to the floor by his feet. Looking down, Harry could see the elder wand as it rolled to a stop by the toe of his shoe. The strangely knotted wood let off a spark or two before becoming still once more.

Fluttering down slowly to land beside it, a small folded piece of parchment drifted rhythmically through the air. It was acting as if it had been caught by a non-existent breeze.

Right before it could land on the floor he snatched it out of the air, glancing briefly at the loopy script that spelt out his name on the front, before unfolding it. A quick peek at the bottom revealed that it was from Death – not that it could have been from anyone else.

'_Dear Master_,' the letter began, although Harry had to squint just to make sure he could correctly read the insanely neat, curving loops that made up Death's handwriting.

'_I thought I might as well give you back your things. Gifts are meant to be kept by the person to whom they're given, after all, even if they were originally intended for your ancestors._ _The stone will be staying here, but we have already established your reluctance at summoning back the dead so all is well (although if you truly need it then it will come). I do hope you have enjoyed your brief jaunt through Jötunheim, excuse their rude behavior, they are a people ravaged by war, but you know what that's like. Just remember my earlier words, the ones about judging a place so soon. You always find the strangest things after taking a second look. Anyways, that is all I am willing to say for now, I wish you the best of luck wherever you may go. Death.'_

Well that was…informing, Harry thought as he reread the letter several more times. Somewhere deep down he was seething at the fact that Death knew he was going to die so soon and violently, but he was soon calmed by reason. It's not as if it was permanent after all.

"So," he whispered out loud, "he wants me to go back." Harry really doubted that he'd find anything after taking a "second look". The entire place had been an icy wasteland and he didn't exactly blend in with the natives. The giant, blue, skin-like-ice natives.

The sharp whistle that signaled an oncoming train pierced through his inner thoughts and caused him to look up. The icy silver and blue train from before came to an immediate halt on the tracks closest to him.

"That's strange," he murmured, "there was no Hogwarts Express this time."

As the doors flew open and the announcer spoke the same message as before Harry made a snap decision. Gathering up his cloak and wand, he turned around and marched without hesitation to board the train. If he died again he could just get on a different train after all.

Quickly he lowered himself in his seat and took a minute to wrap the cloak around his shoulders for warmth and to tuck away his wand into a holster on his arm. He watched as the heavy metal doors slammed shut and jolted as the train began to bumble out of the station.

A few seconds more and the train careened into the tunnel of light that would take Harry back to the icy monstrosity called Jötunheim.

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

Laufey glared down at the being he had just slain with his intense red eyes. It was small and hadn't put up a fight. If he didn't know any better, Laufey would have thought that it was a human.

Although, the way that it had appeared out of nowhere surely proved that it wasn't human. After all, they weren't intelligent enough to travel to other planets. But he _was_ small, especially by Jötun standards. Laufey could not for the life of him remember ever seeing an Asgardian as small as him on the battlefield before – the smallest being about six foot three and in his late teens – and for some reason, Laufey didn't think the boy was of Asgardian descent either. They weren't usually this pathetic.

Laufey sneered in disgust down at the deplorable boy. He didn't know why he was wasting his time.

Just as he was about to step over the strange boy and go back out to the main battlefield – where Odin was fighting atop his sleipnir – a tiny movement on the body caught his eye.

His red eyes widened in shock as he watched the skin mend itself back together, leaving behind only a thin white scar. Without thinking, Laufey placed his fingers against the pulse point on the boy's neck, checking to see if he had somehow survived the deadly stab, careless of the frostbite his touch left behind. There was no pulse.

A quick inspection of the boy's body showed that it was littered with scars of various sizes. Some covering vital parts, like the heart and one at the base of the throat. His stab had punctured the lung.

In one quick motion, the body lunged up from the ground, causing Laufey to rear back a little (not in fear mind you, this _is_ Laufey we're talking about).

The boy gasped for breath, chest heaving rapidly with the effort. He released a small gagging noise, air unable to pass through the blood pooled in his throat and lungs. In less than a second he had rolled onto his knees and began hacking loudly.

Blood sprayed onto the surrounding ice, coating it thickly with the crimson liquid. His arms shook with the effort of holding up his thin frame and the last remains of the blood dripped down from his lips. The image was decidedly a creepy one. One that might have been put in a cheesy horror film back in the muggle world if a penniless director had spotted it.

When the blood had stopped coming up with each attempted breath and he could breath just fine, Harry flopped himself onto his back, just a few inches from the now-frozen pool of red. This was definitely one of his worst wake ups.

Laufey watched warily as the eyes, far greener than anything on Jötunheim or Asgard, scanned the area and stopped on him. It was an odd feeling, looking into those eyes. It was almost as if they were judging his very existence and exposing all of his secrets.

It was not a good feeling.

"What are you?" the words had flown out of Laufey's mouth before he could register them. Slightly stunned from his momentary loss of control and egged on by the inquisitive stare he received from the boy, Laufey continued, "Are you of Asgard?"

Harry's mind was still slightly muffled from his return to the land of the living and he found it slightly difficult to concentrate on what the not-so-friendly blue giant was growling at him. "…No?" He didn't mean to, but it came out as more of a question than a response.

That just seemed to anger him though.

"Are you or aren't you? It's as simple as that!" Laufey didn't exactly yell, but his voice rumbled out menacingly.

"What's Asgard?"

"So you are not then?"

"No. At least, I don't think so. Is that a place?"

Laufey didn't deign him with a response. Instead he began looking him over, trying to see if he had any unusual characteristics.

"How is it that you revived yourself from death?"

Harry could see the disturbing red of Laufey's eyes as he stared intently at his face. He knew that he couldn't lie to him, he would see right through it, but he didn't exactly want to explain the truth. Not the whole truth and especially not to a particularly evil-looking stranger.

"Death has never…held dominion over me." He claimed, carefully choosing his words to not give away too much.

"An immortal?" At Harry's nod he continued, "Are there more of you?"

"I am the only one of my…my kind." It was true, he didn't know if humans existed in this world, or realm, or whatever.

"So you are a deity then?" Harry didn't speak, but he did glare at the thought of being a deity. Something worshipped to the point where it was just insane. He had never enjoyed the hero worship of being the Boy-Who-Lived. Unfortunately, his glare was misinterpreted.

"By the scars I will make the guess that you are the deity of war. Have you ever lost?" Laufey's mind was thinking a mile a minute. He wasn't overly confident when it came to the existence of sacred beings. Sure they had a temple of worship, but it was almost never used during times of war – which was almost all of the time. The idea of having a sacred being – especially one that specifically controlled the tide of war – was tempting, and Laufey was fully willing to utilize this opportunity in any way possible.

Harry just stared, unsure on how to answer. "I have lost battles, and I have lost my companions, but I have never lost a war." He didn't know why he didn't immediately deny being a deity or admit that he had only fought one war (technically two, but because the second one was also started by Voldemort he counted them as one), but he did understand that this conversation was important, vitally so, and would affect his future immensely.

Laufey just smiled, a cruel vile twist of the lips over sharp teeth. "That's good. I am called Laufey" the blue giant now dubbed Laufey gave a small bow of the head in a way that could only be considered mocking, "and you're coming with me."

Before Harry could react a large blue fist slammed into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground. His vision began to fade, black spots dotting themselves in his eyes. As he lay there on the brink of consciousness one last and important thought flitted into his mind. _Where the bloody hell are the Hallows?_

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

A large blue guard roughly shoved him through the arched opening of the sacred temple. His feet slid precariously across the ice as he struggled to keep his footing on the glassy smooth floor. All of his effort was immediately put to waste though, when the toe of his shoe was caught in a carved runic indentation, sending him crashing down.

The momentum from the sudden stop threw his body forward and sent him careening on his belly across the ice until he smashed head first into a large altar that was carved up directly from the ice.

With blurry vision, Harry tried to get a good look at his surroundings, years of warfare with people constantly trying to kill him taking its toll and forcing him to find all of the potential escape routes. Doors, vents, windows, anything he could squeeze into would work, especially with his slighter body frame.

His paranoid musings were cut short when the guard hauled him up by his covered elbows and bodily placed him on top of the altar. It took only seconds before Harry could feel the cold bite of ice as his bare wrists were shackled with long chains that attached to the floor on either side of the altar.

Throughout the entire manhandling process, the guard had never once looked up to meet his face. The fear of incurring the wrath of an immortal – now sacred – being was evident in the Jötun's posture. Apparently that didn't translate to physical treatment though, Harry grouched internally as he began to feel bruises from the ice form under his shirt. After all, deities are supposed to be tough and durable, which Harry – though he likes to think it – was most definitely not. There was also the fact that that might have actually been gentle treatment, but the Jötun were all just so HUGE! They probably weren't used to holding back their strength.

The way the unnamed Jötun moved as he turned to walk out of the room could only be described as predatory and tribal, the gait of an experienced fighter, and one who knew the battlefield well. The temple room was enormous, at least to Harry, but it still only took a few more long strides before the Jötun finally vanished through the archway that he had just been pushed through.

Unsure of exactly what he was supposed to do, Harry spent the next several minutes watching his breath cloud as he exhaled. A sudden shiver ran down his spine, causing his body to start trembling, as if just realizing how cold it was.

A quick glance towards his shackled wrists revealed what he already knew, his skin was a deep purple, quickly turning blue. His blood wasn't moving fast enough through his veins for him to maintain any semblance of warmth.

Harry wasn't keen on dying again so soon, especially since he had yet to see what Death had wanted him to. With a silent growl – something he really didn't do often enough, but really thought he should (it would make him seem like more of a threat…not that he wasn't, but nobody else knew that) – he practically spat out the name of a warming spell that Hermione had used a lot when they were travelling through the woods together.

He could feel his magical core as it began to leech magic from the air and ice around him. In mere seconds his body had heated to a bearable temperature, although it still wasn't all that warm. At least he wasn't going to freeze to death.

A shuttering breath that released massive clouds of foggy breath into the air was the only physical reaction that Harry allowed to show from the strain of the wandless spell. His wrists were now their normal pale color, slightly pinked from the new temperature.

Harry had half hoped that the Elder wand would appear in his hand when he began to do his spell, but it was still stuck in his mind – as odd as that sounded – and he had no idea on how to get it out. At least he hoped it was. How horrible would it be if it had randomly appeared somewhere else on Jötunheim?

With nothing to do and a completely exhausted body, Harry crossed his legs in a crisscross fashion and straightened his back. He cupped his palms together before placing them in the center of his lap and slipping his eyes closed in meditation.

The silence of the sacred room was like a blessing to Harry as he cleared away all of his thoughts and slowly drifted out of the reality that he had been brutally thrown into. His breathing evened out into deep, slow breaths that matched with the rhythm of a hypnotic flame that he conjured up in his mind's eye.

Patiently he waited for the familiar darkness to permeate his mind and cloak his entire being in tranquility. This was not his first time in meditation, far from it. After the defeat of Voldemort and the months of warfare that followed after, meditation had been one of the only things that had kept him sane.

Wizards weren't really intelligent, especially when it came to warfare. The defeat of the leader did not necessarily mean the end of the war. It was more like the saying 'you may have won the battle, but you have not won the war.'

Many of the inner circle had stepped up to fill the void left by Voldemort's demise. The remaining Death Eaters still had control of the Ministry by being untouchable wealthy figures of high ranking society.

All of the intelligence that Voldemort had had, the strategies he could come up with, the knowledge of the most forbidden of dark arts, was sullied and almost pathetic in the hands of his followers. They didn't have what it took to be as thorough a leader as He had been, but they made up for it with their brutality, often engaging in guerilla warfare and attacking only small seemingly unimportant places that slowly crippled the side of the light.

After it had all ended, and the light had smothered out the darkness, Harry found no peace.

The medics had called it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, a condition for which there was no actual cure. He was hyper-vigilant, never trusting anyone he didn't already know (and even some he did). His body began involuntarily twitching, almost resorting to seizure-like spasms when he found himself in an overly crowded area. At night he had trouble falling to sleep, tossing and turning restlessly. Those few nights when his body finally shut down from exhaustion were filled with nothing but memories and nightmares of the war, with even a few memories from his time with the Dursley's thrown in. To sum it all up, it was hell.

The medics had recommended the meditation to help him organize his thoughts and calm his reactions to the presence of others. They said that many people suffered from past traumas and they all found their own ways to cope.

Harry's had been isolation. The less people the better. He had found the most isolated manor from a list of properties he had inherited from his parents and placed it under a fidelius charm with Andromeda as the secret keeper.

Ron had a tendency to blab out things he shouldn't, which was why he couldn't be the secret keeper and Hermione didn't exactly understand his need to be alone. She had been shunned throughout a good portion of her first year at Hogwarts and developed a small inability to cope with the sense of loneliness that he currently craved. He loved her to death, but she would have told others who she thought would have been able to help him, which just wouldn't do.

Andromeda, who had lost all family bar her own grandson – and Harry's godson –, had been the perfect choice. She was a Black, someone who could keep secrets, and she was loyal to the light and would never allow anyone to hurt him.

Less than a month later she gave him Teddy. The years that followed were filled with a less introverted Harry and a happy family dynamic that he had never before been privy to. Several years later he had given Andromeda permission to give the location to Hermione, who had been wheedling for it. Unfortunately, while he _was_ getting better he still wasn't ready to be around other people, so he mostly kept away from his old friends.

A glowing green light flickered on amidst the blackness of his blank thoughts, showing Harry his core. The little waves of energy were all balled together in a mass, occasional tendrils reaching out as if to touch him before being yanked back in.

The ball shuddered. It was tired. Warming charms were ongoing and while summoning it without a wand was the most draining part, the upkeep of the spell prevented the core from recovering the energy it lost.

Harry's mental him frowned; he would have to work on his magical stamina if he was going to have to keep on living without his wand. His core pulsed as it naturally pulled in the magic from the planet around him like a child with a blanket. That was good, at least. Harry was just glad this planet was so full of untapped wild magic. Most of the magic from his old home had been used and tampered with to such a degree that it was next to impossible to take any from the natural resources without destroying them.

Silently Harry reached out with a mental finger and gave the core a quick prod. The area he poked quivered and thrummed at the familiar touch before brightening and shedding the entire dark area with light. It grew brighter and brighter, preparing to show him his personal mindscape where he had stored all of his most sacred memories and his darkest thoughts. Harry hoped that he would find the Elder wand and invisibility cloak there.

Just as he began to make out shapes in the blinding light, noise from the temple jarred him out of his meditative trance and snapped him back to reality.

The heavy tread of Laufey echoed ominously throughout the room, forcing Harry to watch warily from his seat on the altar. Resting in Laufey's heavily muscled blue arms was a cloth bundle, which was enough to send warning bells blaring in Harry's head. A sense of déjà vu briefly overtook him. This was too much like when Andromeda brought him Teddy.

Laufey gracefully strode to the exact center of the temple, an area heavily filled with runic carvings that Harry couldn't identify. Carefully he bent over and dropped the small bundle to the floor before standing up and looking directly into Harry's poison green eyes. He was not a Jötun who feared the divine.

"Who is that?" Harry couldn't hold back the curiosity that seemed to seep into every pore of his being. His voice came out with its normal aristocratic, even tone that he reserved for people he didn't want to talk to, but had to anyway.

Laufey looked towards the bundle with a glare before looking back at him. "_That_," he hissed, "is my son."

That was strange, why would he bring his son here? Harry voiced the question and was answered without hesitation.

"Surely you can see that he is a runt." Laufey snarled. "Keeping something so small and pathetic is a sign of weakness. Weakness is something I can't show. So I have brought him here to you as a sort of offering, do with him what you like." Laufey turned to walk away.

"You're leaving him to die!" Harry exclaimed.

"He'll die on the battlefield anyway! The tiny ones don't last." With those words Laufey stormed out quickly, not once looking back at his neglected child.

Immediately Harry scrambled off of the altar, the chains clanking loudly as they dragged against the ground. He dropped down to his knees right beside the infant and carefully reached out to move the brown cloth that covered the baby's face.

He was met with the sight of the soft-looking blue skin that every frost giant possessed. Carefully, Harry placed his hand against the freezing forehead, running his fingers down across the lines of facial markings and towards the neck to feel for a pulse. It wouldn't surprise him if Laufey had already killed him.

A tiny pulse thrummed under his fingertips and he sighed in relief. The infant made a small huffing noise as he breathed through his nose. Slowly his red eyes, heavy from sleep, blinked open blearily.

Instincts from years of god-fatherhood that could never be forgotten kicked in and Harry snatched up the baby and cradled him in his arms. Harry cooed down at the baby, which was about the average size of a human newborn.

The little boy giggled up at him, wide, toothless smile plastered on his tiny face. Harry started as magic suddenly began to cocoon around the infant, coming to him as naturally as breathing.

Within a fraction of a second, the baby's blue skin turned to a creamy peach color and the small mop of hair on top of his head turned into ebony locks. The most startling feature, the deep red eyes, changed into pale green, almost blue ones.

Once again the baby giggled up at Harry, this time laughing at the look of shock that had plastered itself on his face. The baby had used magic, _magic,_ to turn itself into almost a carbon copy of Harry with little to no effort.

Harry had most certainly not seen any of the other Jötun use magic. He suspected that there might be some, but not any with this much power. The infant was a miracle, surely. He was unique, special, this baby was-

"Weird." Yah that about summed it up, but then again Harry was weird as well. As he cradled the tiny being up to his chest he couldn't help but feel that this was what Death had been saying he needed to find.

The metamorphosis had reminded Harry of all of his past godchildren, who constantly transformed their features with their metamorphmagus abilities.

The feeling of purpose and the need to care for the young one was almost too much for Harry to handle. Time seemed to freeze around them as Harry held him in his arms, murmuring soothing nothings to lull him back to sleep.

For just one brief moment since Harry had entered Jötunheim everything felt perfect.

LINE BREAK (*_*) LINE BREAK

Faraway on the icy plane of Jötunheim an old man – considered a god amongst humans – fought valiantly through hordes of Jötun, unaware of what fate had in store for him.

TBC

**STORY EXTRA (As an apology for the late and short-ish chapter…P.S. this doesn't actually happen, it's just for fun)**

The random – completely unimportant – grunt of a Jötun poked and prodded at the motionless body in front of him. It was a strange being, awfully small in a way that pretty much yelled I-AM-NOT-AN-ASGARDIAN, for the entire world to hear.

The Jötun gasped as right before his eyes the stab wound he had inflicted on the being was healed. He quickly leaned in to examine the body, yes body – for it was definitely totally, completely and utterly dead as the ice that could be found everywhere in Jötunheim and was in no way still alive. A quick glance confirmed it. The body wasn't breathing and the being was definitely not alive, but still-

Just as the Jötun began to stand back up the apparently-no-longer-a-corpse's hand shot out and clenched tightly onto his front, inadvertently yanking him down as it tried to gasp in a ragged breath.

The Jötun couldn't help but scream (Hey! It was a manly scream!) out in shock and launch himself backwards as the being spent the next minute hacking up the blood that had pooled in his lungs. The snow around the curled up and agonized being was stained red from the blood, making for an eerie scene.

Tentatively the Jötun reached out with his blade of ice and…slayed the being again. And again. And again. And a- with lightning quick reflexes the being launched itself to the side to avoid the oncoming blow.

It looked at him with its never-before-seen impossibly green eyes, which were wide in both exasperation and shock. "Stop bloody killing me!" It yelled out, voice echoing in the open air, "If it didn't work the first four times why the bloody hell do you think it would work a fifth?"

Well, the strange being had a point, "What are you strange creature? Surely you are not of Asgard." As far as he knew no Asgardian could recover from a deathblow.

"As-what?"

Nope, he was definitely not from Asgard. They were far too prideful to pretend like they didn't know where their own home was.

"Never mind." The two just stared at each other with wide eyes, both breathing deeply and clutching their chests from the shock of the earlier transactions.

Suddenly, an idea popped into the Jötun's head. It was kind of crazy but it seemed like a good idea. "Hey! Do you want to be my pet?"

Harry choked on his spit. "NO!"

**A/N: And there you have it. I actually dreamt the last part…it's kind of sad actually. **

**This chapter was un-beta'd! I forgot to mention my permanent beta for everything TheDhampir. If you're a fan of TVD go read her stories.**

**Sorry that the chapter length is shorter than normal, but no matter what I did with this chapter it would not come out right. I had to right it backwards because the beginning wasn't coming along and I wanted to get the chapter out. In the future, expect chapters to be at least 5500 words.**

**I started school…am in a creative writing class…have loads of time to come up with future chapters. :D**

**Please review! They were all so amazing last time it made me want to try my best and get this chapter out!**


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